


Mission: True Excellence

by FactorialRabbits



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feanor plans a birthday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactorialRabbits/pseuds/FactorialRabbits
Summary: Fëanor needs a plan to come together.A oneshot for Fëanorian Fun Bingo, for the prompt 'Fëanor takes counsel with his sons'.





	Mission: True Excellence

**Author's Note:**

> Something incredibly silly and not especially well put together I wrote on a bus this morning.
> 
> I haven't entirely forgotten this challenge, just got distracted by chapter fic.

Fëanáro had been released from Mandos only a few months ago. Of his house, he had been the last to return; in the end, even the Lord of Death himself had tired of him. He was sure he would get tired eventually, but for now he was still just too thrilled to be alive and /create/ to even consist causing trouble. Though maybe Valinor could do with a good shaking up...

But that was not what this meeting with his children was for. No, this was for something far more important. 

He, his sons and grandson were gathered in Tyelkormo's front room - the last place anyone would think to look for them. Not even Tyelkormo used his front room. Ambarussa were sprawled over the sofa, entwined lazily with one another. Tyelkormo lent against one of the walls, uncomfortable even within his own walls, with Curufinwë sat on the floor, straight as a rod, at his feet. Celebrimbor was near his father, idly examining one of the hunting trophies on the wall. Carnistir was sat on a box with a coffee cup cradled in his hands, glaring at Makalaurë as he tapped a tune out against the floor. Maitimo was also standing, patiently waiting for the purposes of the meeting to be revealed.

Fëanáro took a long moment to bask in the presence of his children, before beginning his little speech. 

"As we all know, it is your mother's ten thousandth begetting day in just a few months. We few are gathered here today because I want to make sure she had the most wonderful begetting day known to elven kind. And to achieve this lofty goal, I shall require all your expertise! Not only because you have a better grasp of what she likes after all this time, but because between us with cover every talent necessary for a truly excellent party!"

He could see on their faces that his children were not quite certain of how to take this declaration, but with only the slightest prompting they were all throwing themselves into planning and creating; Maitimo organised, Makalaurë took responsibility for the entertainment, Tyelkormo prepared the menu, Carnistir took control of obtaining party supplies, Curufinwë and Fëanáro himself created decorations and new silverware and a thousand other things, the Ambarussa kept Nerdanel too busy to suspect a thing,  and no-longer-so-little Celebrimbor dealt with the invitations - at least, when he was not joining whomever was in the forge he dealt with them. 

Eventually the day of the party came. The whole family was giddy with excitement, as Ambarussa the Elder ran towards the location of the party, having stolen one of Nerdanel's chisels. She followed close behind, freezing upon seeing three quarters of Valinor's population gathered with banners and gifts. 

Ambarussa the Younger was the first to move, giving his elder twin a thumbs up. At that, Fëanáro stepped forward - smiling to his wife. 

"Happy begetting day, my love," he opened his arms to her.

She threw herself into them, picking him up slightly and kissing long and hard. 

When she released him, she lightly scolded him for all the fuss. 

Tyelkormo laughed in response "just wait until you see the gifts."

The other children looked unbearably embarrassed at setting their parents lots so hard. Fëanáro waved them all away, and lead Nerdanel towards an area fenced off for dancing. 

The first of the notes was struck from the musicians, and together they began to twirl around the floor. 

"This is... nice," Nerdanel's face shows far more pleasure than her words, her body losing most of its near constant tension. 

Fëanáro grinned to himself. 

Mission status: not a resounding failure. 

**Author's Note:**

> It takes a looooong time for Feanor to be released from the Halls.


End file.
